Scars
by SaraNomed
Summary: Some scars are visible, some are not. Sometimes we want to talk about them, sometimes we don't. Today was one of the bad ones. -Short fic about Guzma and Plumeria's scars, inspired by a conversation with a friend.


Plumeria yawned lazily, stretching her legs before pulling the thin sheet up higher and wriggling closer to the man beside her. He yawned as well, albeit much louder, snaking his arm around her and pulling her snugly against his side. The only sounds after that were their breath, still not quite back to normal, and the nearly endless, distant patter of rain on the roof. They liked this after a vigorous sex session; just lying together for awhile, forgetting all the awful things about the outside world and their realities, living for just a brief time inside this precious, golden bubble within which everything was somehow okay. Plumeria flicked her eyes up-his were half-closed, blinking slowly while a lop-sided, satisfied smirk was plastered on his face. His hair was a mess, though to be fair that was pretty much a given, and she could tell hers was in no better shape. She smiled, pulling one hand free from the sheet to lightly run it down the side of his face, his stubble rough under her fingertips. Her fingers continued to trail downward, brushing his neck and collarbone to land on the smattering of hair across his chest. Finally Guzma tilted his head to grin at her, the expression warm and full of amusement.

"Whatsa matter, Plums? Didn't get enough of me yet?"

"I think I've had my fill," she winked, "For now."

"Oh, I filled ya alright!"

She snorted back a laugh, "I swear you are like, twelve sometimes."

"Yeech, if that was the case that'd make you one nasty girl."

"Shut the hell up."

Cackling, Guzma suddenly rolled and grabbed her, pulling her over so she was laying on top of him as she shrieked in mock protest. Her laughter was stopped, however, by his lips pressed to hers while he tangled his fingers in her long, bright hair. Plumeria relented, kissing him back for a minute until his hands wandered to her ass, giving it a hearty squeeze. She pulled back, sitting up on her hands to look sternly down at him.

"Really?" she asked.

His smug face dulled slightly at this reaction, "What?"

With a sigh, she rolled off of him and propped herself up on one elbow, "As much as I'd like to stay here longer, or hell, all day...we do have things to take care of."

"Uuugh," he groaned, rubbing his face, "Yeah, yeah, you're right. Fine. Fuck...I'm awake, I'm awake..."

He turned away and sat up on the edge of the bed with his back to her, stretching and letting out some more obnoxiously loud yawns, groans and muttered strings of curse words. Plumeria rolled her eyes but smiled as she watched him, enjoying the view of his lean but muscular frame. He ran his hands through his thick white hair, which she noticed was going to need a touch-up very soon, smoothing it out as best as possible before rolling his shoulders and grabbing his boxers and pants from the floor. It was then her eyes fell upon them again and her smile faded.

Several jagged, ancient but still glaringly visible scars wound their way between his shoulder blades and along his upper back like claw marks.

Her thoughts drifted to the first time she'd noticed them; when after being mugged in the alleys of Malie City, a bruised, bleeding, and broken-ribbed Guzma had dragged himself back to the abandoned house where they were squatting with the the three teens around which they had formed the nuclei that was to become Team Skull. Horrified by his condition, the pink-haired woman immediately barked out orders to go get water and meds by any means necessary while she whisked him to a bedroom to do what she could. She managed to get his jacket off, but he balked at removing his shirt altogether, and it took some heated arguing before he allowed her to peel the cut-up, blood-soaked garment away. It was while helping to scrub some of the now-dried blood from his neck and shoulders that she had spotted them. She ran her fingers along them, casually asking how he earned them when she felt his whole body stiffen. Guzma quickly brushed it off, saying it had been from training his Pokemon. Even then, having only known him for about a year, she knew he was lying. However, considering the current crisis, she chose to ignore it.

It was several more years before she saw them again. This time, they and a horde of grunts had trekked to a beach a ways south, out of the perpetual rain and gloom of Po Town for a mini 'vacation'. It was when he tugged his shirt off for a swim that she noticed and again inquired about them. Angrily, he snapped that it was nothing and to drop it. After that he had stormed off by himself for a couple hours until it was nearly time to head home.

That was the last time she had attempted to get an answer from him, figuring that if he ever wanted to tell her, he would. Curiosity had occasionally welled up in her since then, especially after they had recently started sleeping together. Every time she was considering it though, she thought better of it. But now, since he was still in a relaxed, sated mood, perhaps she'd finally get to find out.

"Hey, Guz?" she started.

"'Sup gorgeous?" he answered, throwing her a smile over his shoulder as he tugged his pants up.

He looked so calm, so happy for once she almost hated to spoil it, but she figured she could just make it up to him later, "One more time; how'd you get those nasty marks on your back?"

He stopped, the smile dropping from his face and replaced first by a look of surprise, then twisting to a more common glower of annoyance, "Told ya a long time ago; got 'em from rough-housing with my Pokemon."

"You said it was from training them."

"Same goddamn thing! That's the story, the end, drop it." he quickly stood, snatching his tank-top and yanking it on, as if hiding them would somehow make them disappear, or her forget. She didn't.

Annoyed suddenly, Plumeria sat up, flinging aside the sheet, picking up her own clothes and starting to get dressed as she continued to press the issue, "You know, I let a lot of shit slide with you. Why you get so angry at some things, why I've caught you a couple times bawling your eyes out-" she paused as he grimaced, "-yeah, didn't think anyone saw, did you? I did, but kept my mouth shut. How and where we get most of our money-it ain't from pickpocketing. I know a lot of things are complicated, but I'd think it'd be easy to just tell me where you got a few lousy scars!"

While she was talking, he had been stalking back and forth across the room, pacing like a caged animal. Now he stopped and glared at her sideways, lips curled back in a mocking sneer.

"Easy, huh?" he almost spat, beginning to pace again, "Let me tell ya how easy it is. Nah, I got a better idea-let's trade stories here! Why dontcha tell me why _you_ horde food in your room? Or even better, why ya don't like to suck my cock? You'll ride it all day n' love every second so it ain't exactly like you're shy!"

Plumeria froze, amber eyes widening. How'd he know about the food? It wasn't as if he hadn't been in her room a thousand times, so he must have seen a wrapper she forgot to hide sticking out from her bookcase. His second question, however, nearly made her stomach turn. She shut her eyes, trying to suppress the images but the blackness behind her eyelids only seemed to make them all the more vivid, so she opened them again to scowl at him.

"Oh, hell no. You are not turning this around on me, not this time."

Guzma turned to face her now, arms crossed and still wearing that borderline insane grin, "Thought this kinda shit was easy, huh? Go on, tell me! If it's so fuckin' easy then spit it out!"

She clenched her hands, nails digging into her palms, furious because she knew exactly what he was doing; he was challenging her, banking on her being unwilling to spill her own secrets so he'd have an excuse not to reveal his own. It was a stupid game but one he played often. After a few moments, she resolved herself to play as well.

Reading her silence as surrender, Guzma barked out a mirthless laugh and grabbed his jacket, "Yeah, that's what I thought. Ain't so easy, is it? Later."

"Get your punk ass back here, now!" snarled Plumeria, having fully dressed and taken a step toward him.

He stopped with his back to her, mumbling in a dangerous tone, "Ya know, if anyone else tried to talk to me like that..."

"Yeah yeah, you'd beat 'em down, whatever," her voice hardened, "You wanna know why I stash food? Or why I won't suck you off much? You really wanna know?!"

Guzma turned around, his expression casually annoyed but she could read the nervousness underneath it; he hadn't been expecting her to call his bluff. The grin returned, though somewhat less convincing, "Yeah, sure. Go on."

Her own anger, though, was still burning as she bitterly said, "I hide food because there was never much in the house-well, trailer, whatever-growing up. When we did get food it was grab what you could or it was gone. I learned to stash any extra so I'd have something to eat later or the next day. It's a hard habit to break," she whirled away, unwilling to let him see her face as she began the next explanation, "As for...well, once I ran away from home, there weren't a whole outta options for survival. I did what I had to. Some guys'll give you a good chunk of money for..."

Guzma's hands had fallen to his sides. He knew about how desperately poor she had been as a kid, that was nothing new. But never, in the years they had known each other, did he ever know nor even suspect she'd ever have been willing to do something like that. She was always so fierce, so proud and so much more mature than him that he just assumed she'd kicked as many asses as she needed to get by, never thinking that she's gotten desperate enough to blow some random douche-bag behind the mini-mart or wherever. He heard her breath hitch, just a little and saw her swiftly wipe at her face before turning back around to stare him down, those piercing eyes boring a hole right to his core.

"There, asshole. Fine, that wasn't easy. But now guess what? Your turn!"

He grumbled, swearing and pacing in a circle, holding his head. He was pissed, oh so pissed. She had done it, actually told him her own dirty secrets, leaving him with no defense for keeping his own mouth shut besides angry, shouted threats or lame excuses. His rage continued to boil, not at her but at the situation he had stupidly put himself in and also at the memories that had begun to surface. Finally, with the buzzing, festering thoughts swirling in his mind, it reached a tipping point and he violent kicked the table near him, sending the globe on it crashing to the floor before he spun to face her, that manic, humorless grin splitting his features.

"Be careful what ya wish for, Plums! Ya really wanna know so bad, I'll tell ya!" Guzma threw his jacket aside and to her surprise, pulled his shirt off, twisting his torso so she could see his back, "Take a good fuckin' look at these bad boys! Ya know, I actually outta be happy about 'em, wear 'em with pride, considerin' how expensive the things were that gave 'em to me!"

Plumeria felt her insides knot up-she already had a horrible;e feeling where this was going. She knew bits about his life growing up from the random times he had mentioned something, or when he was drunk and his tongue was a little looser than usual. Suddenly all the pieces started to shuffle together and she almost told him to stop, that it wasn't that important, but the Tauros was on a rampage now and the only way to stop it was to let the rage play out.

"There's a reason my old man has such a mean golf swing and all his shiny, gold trophies!" he started to laugh again, the sound cruel and too loud, "He got plenty of practice offa me!"

She winced as he viciously flung his fist into the nearest wall, leaving a large dent. He pulled his hand back, not seeming to notice he had smashed his knuckles open and the blood beginning to drip down them. Silence stretched between them, a horrible, somehow exhausted kind of silence, as if all their anger had sucked the very energy from the room, leaving behind a void. She shut her eyes again, trying to calm down and sort her scattered thoughts when his voice pulled her back.

"So now ya know. I hope it was worth the wait." he said simply, all the fire gone.

It was another few minutes, standing there contemplating where to go from here, when Plumeria's feet began to move on their own, almost as if by instinct. Next thing she knew her arms were around him, resting her forehead against his shoulder. His good arm, the one that currently wasn't bloodied, came up to wrap gently around her shoulders as he lowered his face to her hair. They stood like that for a while, her listening to his breath and heart-beat slowly calm down for a second time that day while he inhaled deep breaths of her warm, spicy-sweet scent, the smell a healing balm on his wounds. Her grip tightened ever so slightly; he was so big, and seemed so strong, but in times like these she was somehow afraid he'd wilt away.

At long last sh heard him speak, his voice a low rumble, "I'm sorry, Plums..."

"I forgive you, you big dope. You know that. I just wish-"

"Nah, that ain't-!" he exhaled loudly, pulling back just enough to look at her, "I'm sorry for what you had to go through, and for goadin' you into tellin' me here. And yeah, for bein' a stubborn dumb-ass. But also for...yeah. That's fucked up and you shoulda never had to do it. If I'd found ya sooner, maybe..."

She blinked in disbelief-he was apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and not just to her but _for_ her, even starting, it seemed, to blame himself a little. Unable to help the smile across her face, she stretched up slightly to place a soft kiss on his lips before taking his face in her hands.

"Listen. G. I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I pushed you into this. I probably should have waited until you were ready to tell me on your own. Can't take that back now, so I'll just say this; from here on in, unless it's like, you know, really important, I won't bug you to tell me stuff unless you want to, and vice versa, okay?"

The slightest grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, "I heard bug..."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" she laughed, then held up his injured hand with a sigh, starting to lead him to the bathroom, "Let's get you patched up, boss man."

"Ay-ay, boss lady..."


End file.
